


Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue

by angeloscastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeloscastiel/pseuds/angeloscastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel finally make it official.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue

In Sam’s mind, today had been eight goddamn years in the making and he was determined to ensure it goes _perfectly_. Ever since Dean wandered into the main room of the bunker, cracked open a beer, tossed his feet up on the table and said in an all-too-casual voice, “So me’n’Cas are makin’ it official,” six months ago,  Sam has taken it upon himself to organise everything – because, well, the happy couple _wouldn’t_. The biggest concession Dean was originally willing to make was to wear his FBI suit for the ceremony, and Castiel, knowing nothing of human traditions, was perfectly content with “an exchange of vows in the presence of God.” It was Sam who put his foot down, told them both that if they were getting married they were going to have a proper fucking wedding with cake (“Can there be pie instead?”) and free booze (“Sounds great, Sammy, but you’re buyin’”) and their friends, and he knows someone with a marriage licence (“It better not be Garth. It’s Garth, isn’t it?”)

It was Garth. He was thrilled to be asked.

Sam was the one who found the field, belonging to the sweet old lady who ran the corner store in Lebanon and who always beamed when she saw Sam and whispered conspiratorially, “Your brother and his _partner_ are just so sweet together. You tell them when you see them, they got a good thing there.” Her name was Doris and her eyes shone when Sam had come in to ask if Dean and Castiel could use her field to get married. She promised to bake them pie.

Their guest list, unsurprisingly, was short: Sam, Kevin, Charlie, Jody Mills, Krissy Chambers and her gang, Garth, Claire Novak (Castiel, after finding out she had dropped out of school at sixteen to hunt, hopped on a bus and was gone for two weeks. He’d returned with a recalcitrant Claire in tow and she’d been living at the bunker ever since, learning how to hunt _properly_ and attending the nearby school) and the one married couple who could possibly compete with Dean and Castiel for most unlikely pairing – the humanised Naomi and Crowley. Considering they had individually been Dean and Castiel’s greatest nemeses, together they made rather unconventional friends.

The ceremony itself was beautiful – Dean awkwardly stammering his way through vows that contained far too much _sap_ for him to be entirely comfortable with, and Castiel fixing his eyes on Dean and making vows that could rival William Shakespeare. At one point he switched into Enochian and left everyone looking pleasantly blank, with the exception of Naomi. She was nodding along and at one point had to pull out a handkerchief to dab her eyes.

It was perfect – perfect for Dean, perfect for Castiel, and perfect for Sam who had clapped Cas firmly on the back and said “Welcome to the family, brother,” and Cas had a bit of a tear in his eye when he said he’d given up ever having a brother again.

In the midst of teary eyes and congratulations and Dean fidgeting under the spotlight of so many people’s attentions, a beautiful young woman with flowing blonde hair strolled into the field.

“The hell are you?” Sam asked in a low voice, intercepting her before she could get to Dean and Castiel.

“A friend. I have a gift for the happy couple.”

“Yeah? I’ll pass it on to them.” He held out his hand expectantly.

She rolledher eyes. “I’m not going to kill them. Relax.”

“ _What_ are you?”

“Just a minor pagan goddess.”

“You don’t moonlight as an archangel, do you?”

She glared impatiently at him. “I am who I say I am. Now let me pass.”

Sam drew his knife and followed her closely.

Dean and Castiel turned as one to face her, and Castiel’s face visibly set when he saw her. “Eris,” he said with a flatness that Sam hadn’t heard since his angelic days.

 _Eris_? Sam mouthed to Castiel. _Strife_?

Castiel noded, and Sam ran his hand through his hair. Goddammit. Here comes the Trojan War.

“I have a gift for you,” she said, reaching into her coat pocket and pressing something into Castiel’s palm. She was gone before he could respond, and Dean looked anxious.

“Cas? What is it? Who’s Eris?”

“She is the goddess of strife,” Castiel said, staring at his closed palm. He closed his eyes and wa silent, gripping the gift tightly.

“That – that can’t be good, right?”

Castiel opened his palm, and Sam stared, wide-eyed, at the glowing blue vial in his hand.

“Is that – ”

“My grace, yes.” Castiel’s voice wassoft, reverent. He stared at the vial, entranced.

“Cas?” Dean prompted, worriedly, and Sam couldsee the panic written across his face – panic that Castiel would take his grace back, disappear in a ruffle of feathers to fight Metatron for control over Heaven – of course he would, it’s Cas – but Dean didn’t say anything else, just placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel tore his gaze away from the vial, picking it up by the cord it hung on. “Dean, my love.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I want to give you something.” He reached up, draped the cord over Dean’s head, adjusted it so the vial sat just below Dean’s throat. “And comply with an old human tradition at the same time.”

 “What old human tradition?” Dean asked, confused.

Sam grinned. “I think I know what he means. Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.”

 


End file.
